


Troy and Abed, through art

by Gentleclemence



Category: Community (TV), No Fandom
Genre: Freeform, Implied Relationships, M/M, Other, Troy/abed (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:53:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gentleclemence/pseuds/Gentleclemence
Summary: A alternate story of how Troy and Abed met, based on that episode where Abed finds drawings of himself in a textbook.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Troy and Abed, through art

**Author's Note:**

> This one I made about troy and abed from community, because i was completely invested in the series when I wrote it and thought they made a cute ship. They're not mentioned by name here, and it gets pretty confusing with all the he/him pronouns, but this was based on the ep where abed finds drawings of himself in his textbook

Sitting behind him in class, he couldn't help but let his mind and hand wander. As soon as he had assigned a face to the body occupying that desk he'd been enraptured with the other man's features, the planes of his cheeks and the gentle slope of his nose. Those brown eyes, so gentle and mysterious, had just been begging to be put to paper, and so they were. Before he could really comprehend what he was doing, the hum of Spanish class had taken a seat on the back burner and he begun to methodically sketch away in his textbook. Slowly the empty spaces between paragraphs and cheesy example images got filled up, poses and expressions blossoming and forming as the lessons droned on. After a week or two of trying to pull strings to get partnered with the other man and miserably failing, he decided to take things into his own hands. Pouring over his countless studies and sketches one class period, he carefully selected one that he felt was adequate enough to show: a fast and loose profile view he had done last tuesday while he watched him stare off into space and mumble to himself while periodically hunching over and scribbling. While the drawing was in no way professional, he had been particularly proud of himself for the way he had captured the angles in his back. He waited until a test day, and when the man stood to exit the classroom he saw his chance. Tearing and folding the paper as neatly as he could, he quickly scribbled "whatcha writing about?" And slipped it into his messanger bag as he went to turn in his test sheet. From then on, he settled into a new type of dance with him. No longer was he just a voyeur, he had hopefully integrated himself into the other man's pattern. He would continue to draw him, now cramped and small since he'd run out of big spaces, and leave a piece or two in his bag.  
Then one day, not even in class, the man surprised him. Quickly, he asked if he would like to join a Spanish study group with him, and if he was his friend. Feigning nonchalance to hide the shake in his voice and the beating of his heart, he accepted.  
They became friends. Very good friends. He continued to draw him, now in a private little notebook that never saw the light of day. But the sending of drawings stopped. There was just no way now, no way to sneak around in the shadows as an admirer. They were too close now, to close for him to mess something up, to overstep. The other had even mentioned it at one point, how he'd gotten drawings that had suddenly stopped. He didn't say anything else about them, but it didnt stop his heart from threatening to explode for the rest of the day.  
Then his heart stopped. Things had been fine, perfectly F-I-N-E and then of course, of course he had to have his textbook open when she passed behind him, had to have it open on one of his most treasured and private drawings, had to have seen it. Now suddenly he could only really hear the rush of blood in his ears and the pounding of his heart and he really really hoped he looked better than he felt because one feel of his pulse and he was a dead man. All he could do with his brain short-circuiting was to stammer out a denial, a denial that he caught. He had always been able to read him too well.


End file.
